


The Starry You

by MeikoAtsushi



Series: Outerspace [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Band Fic, Bokuto is Akaashi's dream, Confessions, Kuroo and Oikawa have messed up sex lives, M/M, Music, Self-Esteem Issues, Vocalist!Akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeikoAtsushi/pseuds/MeikoAtsushi
Summary: Akaashi Keiji is an invisible mystery to Bokuto Koutarou.When one mistaken encounter changes their fate, Akaashi struggles to understand what Bokuto sees in him - and Bokuto cannot understand what Akaashi doesn't see."Did you just quote a song to confess to me, Bokuto-san?""No, I quoted you."I'm in love with you -The Starry You.





	The Starry You

**Author's Note:**

> Bold and italics are song lyrics!
> 
> And, this will be a series! Independent series, of all the different pairings in this universe - which are respectively, BokuAka, KuroTsukki, IwaOi, KageHina, and many others! 
> 
> THIS WHOLE THING IS TOTALLY UNEDITED. I APOLOGIZE IF THERE ARE SOME REALLY FUNNY TYPOS, BUT PLEASE IGNORE THEM, THANK YOU!

(Akaashi Keiji is an invisible mystery.

 

He never talks, never moves, never blinks, never answers, and never questions.

 

Bokuto Koutarou’s first impression of him is,

 

_How boring._

He never really thinks much about Akaashi after that.)

“… And this is what you normally call a fundamental niche. Remember this first paragraph, as we will be discussing primarily ecology for our next lecture.”

 

The professor dismisses them, and Bokuto stifles a lengthy yawn. He took biology because he sucked at chemistry, but he really doesn’t understand what the significance of molecular biology or cellular structures is. Since he was accepted with an athletics scholarship in the first place, science was just one of the minor courses he chose – and so far, he was greatly regretting this decision.

 

 _I don’t get a single thing we learned today._ Flipping through his illegible notes, Bokuto groans and massages his aching temples. Anything academically related was his arch nemesis.

 

“What are those – caterpillars?” Kuroo sneers, as he slings one arm around Bokuto’s shoulder.

 

“It’s just unfair that you’re smart _and_ crazy athletic, bro.”

 

Kuroo Tetsurou is Bokuto’s best friend of nearly 5 years – they met one another through their high school volleyball clubs, and had competed as athletes ever since. And although Kuroo was never planning to pursue a career as a sportsman, he left with some commendable achievements – basically, he was that one guy that everyone hated.

 

“Aw, you’re sweet.” Snorts Kuroo, ruffling Bokuto’s hair. “God’s just partial that way.”

 

“And yet you have a romantic reputation of a prostitute.”

 

Tetsurou smacks his hand to his heart, faking a pained expression. “ _Hey,_ rude. I’m just testing out all my options.”

 

“Right, I forgot that that was the basis of our friendship.” Reminisces Bokuto, as they exit the building. It was not exactly an _unpleasant_ memory, just… something they’d rather ignore. For some ridiculous reason, they thought to have sex in a locked gym during a training camp of their freshmen year of high school was just a fantastic idea – Bokuto still wasn’t sure why he was so turned on then.

 

“Does it even matter now?” Kuroo rolls his eyes, as they turn to the right, stopping at the beverage vendor. “I’m a _pure angel_ compared to Tooru.”

 

“Can’t argue with that.” Pushing in his 100 yen, the owl-eyed male presses on the button for his Pokari. “Is he _still_ not over his childhood boner for ‘Zumi?” The energy drink opens with a comical ‘psh’, and Bokuto realizes that his question was stupid. “Never mind. I forgot he jerked off while scrolling through Iwaizumi’s pictures from middle school.”

 

Kuroo makes a face at the remembrance. “Don’t even fucking remind me of that.”

 

They both laugh, as they head back to their dorms. Bokuto, Kuroo, and Oikawa shared one dorm house together – they were all best friends since high school, although Oikawa was from a different prefecture. The only reason they came to know each other was because Oikawa and Kuroo developed a true friendship out of their ‘friends with benefits’ relationship. Sometimes, Bokuto wonders if their circle will continue to expand out of Kuroo’s numerous sex partners.

 

When they return, Oikawa is slouched on their leather sofa, wrapped in his favorite E.T. blankets with the curtains closed, his head fully buried in his galaxy-patterned pillows. Another classic sci-fi movie is playing on TV, the sound turned up to full-volume.

 

 _Oh,_ Bokuto is familiar with this particular situation. _He was dumped again._

“Hey, Tooru, stop hogging the couch.” Kuroo raises his voice, tossing his bag on the plastic chair near the doorway as he stomps towards Oikawa. “And that movie sucks more than Twilight.”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tooru mumbles, “Let me die in peace.”

 

“So, who was it this time?” Slumping down on their furry oval carpet, Kuroo leans back on the surface of the couch, lowering the volume of the film. “The one with heart-shaped chest hair, the one that has ‘blue cheese’ breath, the K-pop wannabe, the –“

 

“The one with the _dick piercing._ ”

 

Bokuto joins them, sitting down next to Kuroo, “Hey, that’s awesome. He was my least favorite one.”

 

“He had Iwa-chan’s _hairstyle._ ” Moans Oikawa, his words muffled out as he rubbed his face against the pile of pillows.

 

Kuroo offers, “All the guys you sleep with have ‘Iwa-chan’s’ something. You lost his hair, but you still have his feet, his fingernails, his lips, his nipples –“

 

“A _hairless_ Iwa-chan is _meaningless._ ”

 

“So is a nipple-less Iwa-chan, if we’re going to argue about this.” Bokuto retorts, and he imagines what Iwaizumi’s reaction would be if he hears the content of this conversation. “And can we just open the curtains? It’s practically like a free electricity bill outside.”

 

The blackhead opens the curtains, and Oikawa screams.

 

“Oikawa, don’t you have class?”

 

“Don’t wanna.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re the top student.”

 

“Beauty and intelligence come hand in hand.”

 

“Yeah, but not Iwa-chan.”

 

“ _Koutarou,_ I will _slice_ you.” Oikawa snaps as he unravels himself from the sushi roll of blankets, still managing to look beautiful when his hair looks like a bird’s nest and his face a tear-streaked mess. He was like a walking sex appeal. “By the way, one of you should go get my kneepads from the gym.” Glaring pointedly at Bokuto, Oikawa drawls out every word. “Kou-chan, you’re free, aren’t you?”

 

 _Such a drama queen._ “I mean, yeah, but so is Tetsu.”

 

“ _Actually,_ ” Unfolding his index finger, Kuroo interjects, “I need to go flirt with someone.”

 

“You _need to,_ sure.” Bokuto snuffles, giving in anyway. Better just deal with a moody Tooru than a hormonal Tetsurou. “Are you _still_ trying to hook up with that emo with the asexual-vibe?”

 

“Firstly, Tsukki is just antisocial. Secondly, he never specified whether he’s actually asexual or not – yet. And he’s so cute; he’d still be worth it without the sex.”

 

“Lying is a grave sin, Tetsu-chan.” Oikawa clucks his tongue, as he reappeared from his room, changed into a loose blue T-shirt and black jeans. “Never forget why we’re friends.”

 

Kuroo shoots him a narrowed warning, but Oikawa is already twisting the doorknob and stuffing his feet into his sneakers. “That bitch.” Grunts the feline, but without a sharp edge. “Bo, if you’re going to go get his kneepads, then mind visiting the 3rd music room? I think I left my chem textbook there.”

 

“What’s with you two consecutively forgetting your stuff? Growing old?” Smirks the wild athlete, as he wriggles his toes through his old Addidas. “I’m off – good luck hooking up with your cute bartender.”

 

“Jealousy isn’t a pretty look on you, Bo.” Bokuto accepts that as a fair farewell and shuts the door behind him.

 

It wasn’t exactly as if Bokuto was envious of his friends’ active romantic lives – in fact, he didn’t exactly consider their relationships “romantic”. They were all noncommittal, “one-night” items, and mutually beneficial-ish. Although Bokuto had once been a regular participant of those, he soon figured that he wasn’t suited for those kinds of things. Sex felt great and everything, but he didn’t want that to be everything.

 

But, well. It _has_ been a long time since his previous breakup. Maybe a year – or more – Kuroo and Oikawa were terrified by the fact, as they were individuals that lived for the fuck.

 

The evening sunray of July was warm, the hot breeze brushing over Bokuto’s ears comfortingly. He made his way to the gym first, as it was closer, entered the unoccupied stadium, and soon found the indigo kneepads lying by the side of the walls.

 

 _Now for the 3 rd music room, _he reads to himself, _nobody even uses that place anymore, don’t they?_ He’s fairly certain, as he vaguely recalls one of his teammates told him that the band that was practicing before disbanded a while ago, and as a result, they vacated all the instruments and speakers. It wasn’t prohibited or anything (or else Kuroo wouldn’t have left his belongings there, but then again, this is Kuroo we’re talking about), but the atmosphere itself caused anxiety, due to its disorganized features.

 

As he shoved the creaky metal double doors open, something flowed over Bokuto’s shoulders.

 

_Singing._

It was extremely faint, inaudible, just a low murmur at most – but Bokuto had sharpened senses, and was better at catching certain things compared to others. The voice was definitely not high-pitched, but rather closer to a soft, alto range, with a slight wavering vibration, as if it was easy to break.

 

But it was enrapturing.

 

As if attracted to the voice, Bokuto’s feet climbed the staircase with a light rhythm, his golden eyes glued upward, as he tried to track down the origin of the song.

 

The hum grew closer and closer, and Bokuto noticed that there were no words being sung – it was just a quiet, slightly disconnected tune, the notes uneven and the pauses random but somehow working to produce the most delicate melody.

 

His footsteps abruptly slowed, and his breathing grew shallow as he placed his hand on the surface of the entrance to his destination. Across the few wooden centimeters, he could vividly heed the singer’s humming, as they fluttered like a feathery bird in one measure, and then dropped down to a heavier, thicker tone for another. Bokuto knew nothing of music, and was pretty sure professionals wouldn’t regard this as much – but to Bokuto, it was the most mesmerizing piece in the world as of now.

 

The instant he dragged the door open, the purr of sound stopped, and Bokuto stared into the vicinity of the room.

 

There was a man sitting on a lone piano bench – one with forest green eyes, and curly dark hair that somewhat resembled a mop. His ears were covered with large jet blue headphones, and he was wearing a black hoodie and torn jeans. The orange sunset made his pale skin reflect the bright reddish-pink wash of the sky, and his mouth was slightly agape, as if in shock.

 

He’s the prettiest person Bokuto’s ever seen, the man decides – and wonders why he’s never recognized someone on campus like this before.

 

Said pretty guy scrambled for his bag in a hurried panic, practically tumbling down from the piano bench.

 

“Hey, hey!” In a clumsy attempt to reassure the guy, Bokuto stepped in front of the only entrance and exit of the room. “Relax, I’m not gonna attack you or anything. For real!”

 

Pretty boy still looked dubious, as he hugged his bag, his back cautiously hunched.

 

“I was just on my way to the 3rd music room, and uh, I thought your voice was really pretty so I came here, and yeah! You have a really nice voice, does anyone tell you that?” With a very skeptical crinkle of the nose, the guy shook his head. “Well, shame. You really do have a pretty voice. I think it’s meant to be appreciated if you get what I mean.”

 

Despite his truest efforts to initiate a conversation, the guy wears an expression that is definitely somewhere in between ‘I just want to leave’ and ‘I have no idea what you mean’. His headphones slide off his ears and drop to his crook of his neck.

 

“I’m Bokuto. Bokuto Koutarou.” With his widest smile, Bokuto introduced himself – hoping to get some sort of response this time, instead of just a disgruntled face. It really was a shame that that wonderful voice was going wasted in silence.

 

With a little twist of the lips, the guy hesitantly, _finally,_ answered, “I know.”

 

“You do?” Koutarou is genuinely surprised. “How?”

 

“You’re,” The other frowns a little as if contemplating how to phrase his explanation in the least verbose way possible, “In my biology class.”

 

“ _You are?”_ Hollered Bokuto, because he literally doesn’t remember anyone that even minimally looks this attractive in his class. Mentally re-imaging every member in his class, he struggled to discover anyone – until something clicked. “Wait, are you the guy that sits in the front row? The one that eternally wears a hoodie?” _The one that is too invisible to leave any lasting impression?_ “Uh, Akashi Kenji?”

 

Mr. Nightingale winced. “It’s Akaashi Keiji.”

 

 _Oh. Oops._ “Right, Akaashi, I totally…” _Remembered,_ is what he was going to continue with, but Bokuto was well aware that he had gone too far to feign his knowledge. “… Forgot about you. But hey, now I’ll never do it again!” He’s absolutely positive – there’s no way he’d erase someone pretty _and_ with an angelic voice from his mind.

 

Akaashi seems unimpressed, as he swung the strap of his bag over his head. Bokuto internally groans – he marvelously fucked up. The dark-haired student approached the door, and Bokuto scooted over to make way for him

 

“Hey, Akaashi, do you wanna go get some coffee? I’ll treat you.” In vain, Bokuto blithely suggested –

 

But Akaashi was already gone.

 

* * *

 

In their next biology lecture, Bokuto moves to the front row, next to Akaashi’s seat. Once again, Akaashi does not look extremely delighted by the older boy’s presence.

 

“My eye sight’s been failing me nowadays,” It’s a flimsy excuse, but Bokuto can’t just say, ‘hey, I thought you were really cute and moving seats makes it easier to see your pretty face’. That was just classic Kuroo.

 

Akaashi removes his hood and exhales through his nose. His impassive emerald orbs journey back to the presentation, as the professor begins teaching. He reaches for his notebook from his bag, and his long fingers roam through the pages until he arrived at a fresh new section. Bokuto’s round eyes followed his every movement, from the curve of his fingers to how Akaashi held his mechanical pencil.

 

“You have really neat handwriting.” Koutarou blurts out, and Akaashi jumps. His eyelids jerk upward and quickly revert back to normal, and dart to meet Bokuto’s shining golden. “My notes are barely legible- look,” He rummaged for his own notebook, and threw it on the desk. “Tetsu- my friend, he told me it looks like caterpillars. I don’t think it’s _that bad,_ you know?”

 

He scrutinizes Akaashi’s face closely to discover some kind of agreement happening, but the latter simply examined his notes for a while, sniffed tersely, and focused on the lecture again.

 

Something within Bokuto cracks. He doesn’t really like being ignored, but Akaashi was different. He wasn’t really ignoring him – he was _avoiding_ him.

 

When the 90-minute lecture is over, as usual, Bokuto asks,

 

“Akaashi, do you find me annoying or something?”

 

The minor blinks rapidly as if pondering where this was coming from and then purses his lips together. Finally, he says, “No.”

 

“Then why do you not respond to anything I say?” Pouts Bokuto, folding his arms together. “I won’t really be offended if you _do_ find me to be a nuisance or something – I don’t want to irritate you when you actually don’t like me, you know?”

 

Once more, Akaashi wears a thoughtful expression. His sharp eyes seem to slouch downward, and his mouth tightens in a narrow line. “We only met yesterday, and… I’m not really good at talking.”

 

“As in, forming sentences? Because I have really limited vocabulary too – like, Kuroo- he’s my friend, by the way – said something like ‘extemporaneous’ early on today and I still have no idea what it means!”

 

“It means ‘without special advance preparation’, or impromptu.”

 

“Holy shit, that sounds like it’s straight out from the dictionary!” Bokuto chuckles and Akaashi’s face flushes in beet root red. “You’re so smart, Akaashi!”

 

Covering his mouth with his hand, Akaashi rejoinders, “I’m average.”

 

“Well, our university’s super competitive, isn’t it? It’s like, ‘Whoa, you must be _so_ smart to get in there’ right? So that must mean you’re like, _super smart,_ Akaashi!”

 

Finally regaining his original cool composure, the other shrugged a little. “You got in too, Bokuto-san.”

 

 _Bokuto-san._ Bokuto had many people in his life so far to call him by his name, his given name, his endless list of nicknames – but he never knew his name could sound like… like _music._ It was as if Akaashi’s voice itself was an instrument, and was playing Bokuto’s name in a unique, special way Bokuto never knew before.

 

“I got in with a sports scholarship – I was scouted by the team and, you know, those athletics-related things. It’s not really something that requires extreme intelligence – or else I wouldn’t be here. Two of my friends, though – they can play really well, and they’re even amazing with their academics – like holy moly, you know?”

 

“That’s… remarkable, indeed.” Akaashi’s cheeks quirk a little, as he fondles with his bag strap. “What… what sport do you play, Bokuto-san?” His crystal irises nervously sprint around, his middle-low voice pitching up to middle-high. Bokuto finds it… endearing.

 

“Volleyball!” Proudly tapping his chest with a clenched fist, he grinned. “I used to be the captain of my old school, and one of Japan’s best 4 aces – university and the professional league really _is_ a different world, though. There are so many people stronger than me, and while it’s kind of scary, it’s also really exciting!”

 

Stiffening a little, Akaashi’s lips tug south but soon refines into a straight horizontal line. “That sounds magnificent.”

 

“Right? You can come meet my friends next time – Kuroo and Oikawa can be a little… well, they like to flirt, but you’ll get used to it.”

 

“Thank you for the invitation.” Neatly positioning his bag strap in the middle of his left shoulder, Akaashi stood with a ramrod, upheld posture. Even through his hoodie that looked around three sizes too large, Bokuto could easily analyze the fact that Akaashi was always prim and proper, no matter what.

 

It’s a refreshing element in Bokuto’s slipshod, rampant life.

 

“See you later, ‘Kaashi!”

 

A terse pause stands between them, as Akaashi turns around and mouths,

 

“Likewise, Bokuto-san.”

 

Bokuto can get used to this.

 

As a matter of fact, he’d _love_ to get used to this.

  

* * *

 

 

“So you put your dick in a guy you just met yesterday?”

 

“ _That’s not it!_ ” He drawled, the table rattling as he slammed the Heineken onto their wooden table. “He’s just pretty, and I think he’s nice, and…”

 

“Yeah, so you want to have a nice, sweet fuck.”

 

“I’m not you or Kuroo.”

 

“You used to be.” Oikawa breathes out a puff of smoke, his chocolate gaze darting out the opened window. “So, what’s his name?”

 

“Akaashi Keiji.”

 

“Geh, sounds like a nerd.”

 

“You _are_ a nerd, Tooru.”

 

“Such blasphemy will not be tolerated, Kou-chan.” Fixing the crook of his glasses, Oikawa squashed the remnants of the petite flame out on the ashtray. “Though, it’s really like you to be attracted to something mushy like that. His _humming_? Are you living in a shoujo manga, like seriously?”

 

Bokuto stuck his tongue out. “I don’t want to hear that from a person who’s been heads over heels for his childhood friend for fifteen years.”

 

“Hajime isn’t something complicated like love, or anything.” Emptily laughing, Oikawa leaned against the windowpane. A tint of sea blue nostalgia was reflected in his brown eyes, as he stared at the smoke that was traveling up into the air, dissipating. “He’s someone I can’t live without, although he will never feel the same.”

 

Bokuto gulped and solemnly observed his friend. There were scarce times, times like these, where Oikawa would address Iwaizumi as ‘Hajime’ and not ‘Iwa-chan’, paint his perfectly oval-shaped pupils with regret, his disgustingly sweet smile turning bitter, a transition that resembled hot chocolate to dark coffee. “Tooru. Are you okay?”

 

_He’s not okay, of course._

 

Oikawa’s stare is glued to the ashtray. His glasses seem to fog, but it could be Bokuto’s imagination. “Yeah. I’m good.”

 

Suddenly they’re interrupted by an ear-shattering crash and a dejected whine that follows.

 

“ _TOORU, BOOOOOO,”_ Stretching his arms out, Kuroo stumbled into the living room with the door left swinging behind. “Tsukki turned me down _again._ ”

 

“Tetsu-chan, just how much did you drink?” Shooing Tetsurou away with his hand, Oikawa scrunched up his nose and backed away as far as possible. “Did you go to that bar again?”

 

“Well _duhhhhhhh,_ ” Bokuto sighed and went to close the door, as Kuroo laid sprawled on their carpet. “Tsukki makes good drinks… so does Suga-chan, but I meannnnn…” His sentences were on the verge of incoherent, and Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “Tsukki’s just _soooooo_ busy all the time, with his band, aaaaannnddd…”

 

“Okay, you are legit not making any sense right now.” Kicking his friend in the shin, Oikawa rolled him away and threw down a blanket on him, as Kuroo moaned and squirmed beneath. “Introduce me to your nerdy boyfriend later, Kou-chan – as much as I want to hear more about his _angelic_ voice, the beauty needs sleep!”

 

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend –“ But before Bokuto could finish, Oikawa had already disappeared into his room.

  

* * *

 

 

Akaashi Keiji cannot comprehend.

 

Well, he can. Just not… _this_.

 

It has been exactly 2 weeks since Bokuto Koutarou stumbled into his life at the wrong time like an out-of-tune saxophone, and 13 days ever since he transferred seats to simply sit next to Akaashi because he wanted to. It has been 8 days since Bokuto exchanged phone numbers and email addresses with him, and a week since the scholarship student started visiting the café he worked for part-time.

 

Truly, Bokuto Koutarou is the greatest mystery he has ever encountered.

 

“Here’s your bubble milk tea and blueberry cheesecake.” Setting his order down in front of Bokuto, Akaashi couldn’t help but frown a little.

 

“Thanks!” With a toothy beam, Bokuto clapped his hands together in joyful glee and wolfed down the cheesecake.

 

So far, Akaashi Keiji quite the deal about Bokuto Koutarou.

 

Correction – he knows about Bokuto Koutarou, more than he does of others.

 

He was scouted by the university’s professional team and was currently studying for a scholarship. He had two friends, Kuroo Tetsurou and Oikawa Tooru, both who were infamous for their sleeping habits and rather pleasurable appearances. Akaashi had never seen them around, but the school’s homepage and Bokuto’s occasional texts were sufficient for him to get a good impression of what they might be like.

 

Bokuto also really liked meat – something that wasn’t very challenging to figure out once they had dinner together. Literally,  _every dish_ Bokuto ordered had meat, and they ordered at least twenty dishes, eighteen which were all for the latter. He was a very messy eater, and held his chopsticks like a weapon, and ate as if he had no tomorrow.

 

He was very sociable and had a bountiful bunch of acquaintances – those that he all named by ‘bro’ or ‘buddy’. He’d give them a shoulder slap, a fist bump, a high five – everything Akaashi found rowdy and disruptive.

 

Frankly, they weren’t supposed to hang around together.

 

 _So why is he so intent on following me around?_ His fingers wrapped tightly around the tray he was holding, Akaashi’s frown only deepened. He was antisocial, he didn’t like sharing extra information about himself, he wasn’t interested in other people, and he also couldn’t bring himself to be… nice to others. Even now, he wasn’t really being the most altruistic person in the world. In fact, it was very much the clear opposite.

 

So why?

 

“Akaashi, get back to the floor!” One of his co-workers yelled, and that finally awoke him from his daydream. He could feel Bokuto’s intense golden digging into his back, but he rushed to the customer that was wearing a slightly vexed scowl.

 

 _Just focus,_ he reprimanded mentally, _he’ll get bored eventually._

_(“You have a really nice voice, does anyone tell you that?”)_

_Concentrate._ “My greatest apologies – what would you like to order?”

 

As he scribbled down the curt names and briskly headed back and forth to the kitchen and floor, he couldn’t ignore the ferocious way Bokuto’s face would stick to him, even as he sipped his bubble tea and licked the cream off his fork.

 

(The real question is: how does _Akaashi_ know that?)

 

“That guy’s been glued to you for a while now,” Another waiter, Konoha Akinori shivered, “Did you do something to him? He looks kind of extreme.”

 

“We just learn biology together.” Akaashi shrugged because that was just the plain truth.

 

“Oh, so he must be really… passionate about biology?” Konoha squeaked, and Akaashi was swiftly reminded of how Bokuto seemed far more intrigued by Akaashi’s organized notes more than the actual lecture.

 

“Maybe.” Placing the hot cup of latte on his tray, Akaashi set out to the floor once more. His shift was almost over – he could finally return to his apartment.

 

“Akaashi, can we get dinner together?”

 

Bokuto’s eyes sparkled – quite literally – as he giddily flexed his feet into tiptoes and flat.

 

Once again, a mystery.

 

The raven contemplated for a second – his first option was to decline, but that’d mean Bokuto would get all saggy like what happened 3 days ago. His second option was to tag along for a while, and quickly leave as soon as he was done with his business – but that always seemed to leave Bokuto at a somewhat dejected note. The third option was to accept, and hang around with Bokuto until he was satisfied.

 

_The first option sounds like the most tiring to deal with._

“Sure, Bokuto-san.” He acceded, once he was fully changed out of his waiter’s outfit. “Do you have somewhere specific in mind?”

 

“Well, there’s this bar Kuroo taught me the other day – they have _really_ delicious food, although one of their bartenders look a little sour.”

 

 _A bar._ Akaashi thinks about that. “Is it loud?”

 

“Nope! I thought Akaashi wouldn’t enjoy somewhere too loud, because you seemed a tad bit out of place at the yakiniku restaurant last time – so I made sure to find somewhere quiet enough!”

 

That causes something to flutter within Akaashi. _He’s surprisingly attentive._ “That’s very kind of you – I appreciate it.”

 

“You really think so?” Rubbing his nose with his finger, Bokuto smiled. “Well, Akaashi always says the truth, so it must be.”

 

Keiji doesn’t comment on the last point. It’s not that he always said the truth – Bokuto just had a tendency to trust others with ease. It was a redeeming quality in certain aspects, but it was something Akaashi couldn’t seem to wrap his head around.

 

“Why do you work part-time, Akaashi?”

 

_There it was, the questions._

“To pay for my tuition.”

 

“Wow, that’s so responsible of you, huh? Kuroo teases me because I still suck at flipping pancakes.”

 

“Is that really relevant to responsibility?”

 

“Well…” Bokuto scowls and looks confuddled. “Maybe not. But in conclusion, I’m kind of irresponsible. I forget to do things and all.”

 

“Maybe you should write them down?”

 

“Yeah, that’s an excellent idea! You’re a genius, Akaashi.”

 

 _Anyone could’ve given the same advice,_ Akaashi retorts within himself but decides not to say anything. It was just a minor suggestion – a typical solution – and yet, Bokuto appeared so enthralled by everything Akaashi said.

 

_I don’t get him._

The bar is located next to a convenience store, which kind of ruins the elegant mood. A blinking, highlight sign of ‘Karasuno Bar’ illuminates the twilight, and the faint melody of jazz leaks from the opened door.

 

“Oh, Bokuto!” A man wearing a red sweater and matching sweatpants greets them – which once again, crashes with the classy atmosphere of the bar. “You’ve come again, with a companion, have you?”

 

“Ukai-san!” Responded Bokuto merrily, waving both arms. “I still can’t believe Tetsu kept such a cool place all to himself. It’s unfair!”

 

The most sour-looking bartender Akaashi has ever seen intercepts, “To reduce the level of idiocy that’s already soaring in here, probably.” His first words are as sour as his expression, Akaashi noted.

 

“Tsukki, you’re _so_ mean! I don’t understand why Tetsu is so hung over you.” Bokuto groused, insinuating a grunt in this ‘Tsukki’.

 

“Don’t call me Tsukki.”

 

They sat down on the stools that were lined in a semi-circle around where ‘Tsukki’ was caring for the drinks. “That guy’s name is Tsukishima Kei, but we all call him Tsukki.” Bokuto snickered, earning a poisonous snarl from the blonde. “Tsukishima, this awesome guy is Akaashi Keiji.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” Akaashi nodded, and Tsukishima nodded back.

 

“Tsukishima Kei. It’d be my greatest honor if you don’t resort to calling me that childish nickname as well. Would you like a drink?”

 

“Water, please.”

 

“Sparkling or distilled?”

 

“Distilled.”

 

With that, Tsukishima silently slipped off to the kitchen, and Bokuto whined about the younger man not receiving his order.

 

Akaashi got a pomodoro pasta, and Bokuto went straight for the steak. It was a rather scrumptious meal, and the quiet, serene ambiance of the bar was really soothing to the soul. The jazz that was flowing from the speakers weren’t cacophonous or distracting in any way, and the short acoustic tunes that replaced it every now and then was a fresh transition. Tsukishima and Bokuto’s banter continued throughout their meal and seemed to contrast the tranquil current of the air.

 

It was a pacifying sensation that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

 

 _Mysterious._ Akaashi glanced at his reflection in the distilled cup of water. _But it’s not anything ominous._ He inhaled a shallow breath and inspected the bar with far increased intrigue.

 

The furniture was mostly made out of dark wood, and the overall color scheme of the bar was black. He supposed that was the whole intention of the ‘Karasuno’ label – it meant ‘crows’, after all. There were cute ornaments of crows hanging around the walls, and a few retro paintings that lacked color. Then one particular painting captured his attention. It was –

 

“What’re you looking at, Akaashi?”

 

He nearly screamed as Bokuto’s hand touched his arm. “Um, I was –“ He tried not to stutter, as he quickly gathered the invisible shards of his conscience. “The photograph.” _Shoot, I said that a little too fast._

 

“Oh, that?” Bokuto removed his hand from Akaashi’s arm, seemingly oblivious to the extremely panicky reaction. “Yeah, that’s a good one, don’t you think? Tsukki, who took that picture again?”

 

“My brother.” Answered Tsukishima impassively. “He’s a photographer.”

 

The photograph wasn’t anything too complex, or inexplicably breathtaking. It was just one of the night sky, dotted with shining stars that glistened like jewels on a black-blue canvas. But there was _something_ about everything – something that pulled you in, something that you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at, amazed.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Akaashi whispered, and he could hear a low clatter and eerie silence behind him from where Tsukishima was standing, cleansing the dishes.

 

It was beautiful. It really was.

 

“So you like stars, Akaashi?” Piped in Bokuto, his golden orbs shining like stars.

 

“I… I suppose.” Stars were always a mystery to him. They were a few hundred thousand light years away, and still accomplished a fine task of shining bright, twinkling in the sky as they existed in space. Each one of them had their own history, a story to tell – and there were _trillions, billions_ of stars in the galaxy. That meant billion different stories, and so many more perspectives.

 

They were so vibrant in comparison to the dullness of Akaashi.

 

“Well, it’s kind of hard to see a sky like that in Tokyo.” Bokuto mused, “Pollution and everything.”

 

“You’re using pollution in the correct context? The world must be ending.” Sneered Tsukishima, as he handed the bill to them.

 

“Tsukki, it really wouldn’t hurt to be nice sometimes.” His bleached hair seemed to droop a little, as Bokuto pouted and snatched the bill from him. Akaashi’s eyes widened as he saw the man take out a few notes from his wallet and return it to the bartender.

 

“Bokuto-san, you can’t just –“

 

“ _Akaashi._ ” The firm tone of Bokuto’s voice made him stop midway. “You help me whenever I don’t get something during class, and you even put up with my hyper personality after school, so it’s my method of thanking you. I really owe you.”

 

 _No, you don’t._ Akaashi helps Bokuto because it’s only natural for someone to answer questions when another doesn’t apprehend. Akaashi doesn’t put up with Bokuto’s personality – he’s never had to. The only part that nags him on is _why_ Bokuto treats him this way, and why he is so inclined to continue this.

 

“I’ll pay for our next meal.” Akaashi rumbled, closing his eyes in defeat.

 

“So there’s a next time?”

 

His eyes snapped open in realization of what he just suggested, and for once, Akaashi doubted himself. But his lips were already enunciating,

 

“Of course, Bokuto-san.”

 

The shine in Bokuto’s stars is worth it.

 

* * *

 

“Say, Akaashi, do you want to meet my friends?”

 

Around a month later, Bokuto finally brings himself to ask Akaashi. He was fully aware of the fact that Akaashi wasn’t the most social individual, and had trouble speaking his mind to those he wasn’t familiar with. However, he really wanted to introduce Akaashi to his closest people – that’s just the kind of person he was.

 

Akaashi’s slightly taken aback but relaxes. “I’d be glad to, Bokuto-san.”

 

The older male heaves a sigh of relief, shrinking down into the bench they were both sitting on just outside Bokuto’s dorms. They were discussing what to have for dinner, and Bokuto’s ideal plan was to make Akaashi tag along to the dormitory and then invite him in. He hadn’t informed Oikawa or Kuroo previously, but they were biting at Bokuto for the past week to drag Akaashi over, so he assumed they’d be fine with the idea.

 

“God, I thought you’d turn me down.”

 

The green in Akaashi’s eyes wavers. “Why?”

 

“Because, you don’t like hanging out with people that much, and I often tell you how weird and obnoxious my friends can be! Honestly, I was certain you were going to refuse.”

 

“Well,” Clicking his tongue, Akaashi begins, “While that is true, if you really presumed I wouldn’t get along with your friends, I don’t think you would’ve invited me.” Bokuto was finally getting the gist, of what kind of person Akaashi was. Bokuto was considerate, affectionate, and overly trusting, after all.

 

The athlete complies with that point. “I guess.” With a ruffled pause, he opens his mouth, “Wanna go in?”

 

They both rise, and enter the dorms. Bokuto leads him through a series of hallways until they finally reach one door – from inside, Akaashi hears some sort of argument occurring, with raised volumes and screeches.

 

For a second, he ponders if perhaps, this is a terrible choice – but it’s too late, as Bokuto twists the knob and kicks the door open.

 

“- _I SAID, THAT YOU CAN’T JUST EAT MY MILK BREAD WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!”_

_“Calm_ your _shit,_ it’s just _fucking milk bread._ ”

 

“ _JUST_ FUCKING MILK BREAD? I CAN’T BELIEVE –“ Attractive Man number one halts his shrieking as he spots Bokuto and Akaashi, and gawks, hard. “Holy shit, Kou-chan, is that Hummingbird?”

 

 _Hummingbird?_ Akaashi skims around, and finally notices that it must’ve been him. … _Hummingbird?_

“Holy _shit,_ did someone just say Hummingbird?” Attractive Man number two wriggles his eyebrows and smirks haughtily. “Bo, I thought you said you don’t judge books by their covers!”

 

Akaashi is thoroughly confused. And that is a severe understatement.

 

“Kuroo, Oikawa, you’re gonna scare off ‘Kaashi!” No shit.

 

“Oh, right, inability to socialize and allergic to human interaction. Forgot about that.” The one with the less crazy hair rolls his eyes, and Akaashi winces at the sheer bluntness. Was that how Bokuto viewed him?

 

“Oikawa, don’t be mean to Akaashi. Sorry, ‘Kaashi, he’s kind of a sick jerk, but when you get used to him it gets better, I swear.” Akaashi speedily transforms that thought once he sees Bokuto’s apologetic crease between his brows.

 

The one that is not Oikawa, Kuroo, Akaashi assumes, snorts. “It doesn’t get better, it deteriorates.”

 

“I absolutely deny accepting that when it’s coming from you, Tetsu-chan.”

 

“Too bad, I was always an honest person.”

 

“Bull shit.” Bokuto laughs, and that enough makes it easy for Akaashi to understand just how long and how close these people have actually known one another. They were only a doorway apart and a few meters away, but Akaashi could sense the wall between them, the time he was missing out on, and the void that was too visible to disregard.

 

 _This might’ve been a bad idea._ His jaw clenches, as he lowered to take off his sneakers.

 

He felt like an intruder.

 

“Sorry for this bastard, Akaashi. He’ll always be a bastard no matter how long you get to know him, so I offer my condolences to you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, the nicer one.” Kuroo Tetsurou, the nicer one (Akaashi was very skeptical), extends his hand, the corner of his mouth curling like a hook.

 

Hesitantly, Akaashi takes the hand into his and shakes it. “My name is Akaashi Keiji. Thanks for letting me in tonight.”

 

“ _Stiff! Kou-chan, he’s_ fucking _stiff!_ ” Oikawa wails out of the blue, and marches towards Akaashi. He gives him a stony glare, and Akaashi wonders what he could’ve done to piss this man off. “I’m Oikawa Tooru, the hottest one here.” He doesn’t offer his hand, so Akaashi doesn’t either. “And, you talk like a textbook. Stop that.”

 

“Oikawa, you literally have your nose buried in a textbook half the time.” Kuroo comments, but Oikawa just overlooks it.

 

“Um,” Akaashi, on the other hand, is not sure how to respond to this. Nobody has ever directly told him in his life that he sounded like a textbook, and even if they ever have, they never told him to just stop. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do that.”

 

Oikawa puts his hands on his hips, and then beams. “See? You can do it.” He ruffles Akaashi’s hair, and then steps away to the kitchen, reaching for his phone. “Okay, now I’m ordering because I’m hungry and we need pizza.”

 

“But I thought we were getting Mos Burger?”

 

“No, _Tetsurou_ , your opinion no longer matters because you ate my milk bread. We’re ordering pizza.” His tone means it’s final, or at least Akaashi thinks so because everyone else seems to relinquish whatever they had in mind for the day. “Oh, wait. Akaashi-kun, are you fine with pizza?”

 

“ _Wow,_ feeling the love here, Tooru.”

 

“Shut up, Tetsu.”

 

Akaashi awkwardly nods. “Yes, I’m fine with pizza.”

 

“Great! Hello? Yeah, we want…” As Oikawa orders over the phone, Kuroo averts his sleazy single eye to Akaashi.

 

“So, Akaashi, how are you going with our Bokuto over here?”

 

Akaashi frowns. Bokuto punches him in the arm, groaning. Kuroo is unchanged, though, as his hazel cat pupils bore through Akaashi.

 

Not quite knowing what the right response was for this kind of circumstance, Akaashi answers, “He takes care of me well. I’m indebted to him.”

 

Clearly, Kuroo misunderstands this someway and creepily smiles at Bokuto, who growls at Kuroo as if they had this numerous times before. “Sorry, Akaashi – Kuroo, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

 

“Just friends.” Kuroo reiterates.

 

 _Just friends,_ Akaashi mentally reiterates simultaneously. His chest grows heavy, and a bottomless abyss seems to form right through his guts. _Just friends._ A sordid dryness overwhelmed his throat, and Akaashi held a trembling breath to suppress his unknown disappointment. It was the truth – it _is_ the truth – and yet, he was now having problems accepting that.

 

 _Not this again._ The sharp warning crosses him, as his fingers curled into the carpet he was sitting on. _Please tell me this isn’t happening again._

“Sure, whatever man.” The bedhead shrugs it off and slumps further down onto the couch. “Oh, Akaashi, about the hummingbird thing –“

 

Oikawa huffs and drops to the couch as well. “So, Akaashi-kun, I heard you could sing?”

 

His pale face flushes red, and Akaashi sputters. Bokuto must’ve told them about how they initially met. “I –“ His voice cracks and his face turns even redder. “I’m just- average.” He spits out, and can literally feel the heat in the tip of his ears. He avoids sharing eye contact with any of the three older men in the room and internally cusses.

 

_Screw this._

_I knew this was a terrible idea._

“Well, that’s a beautiful reaction.” Kuroo leers, and Akaashi is positive he hates the guy, and that this guy is no way the nicer one. “I _really_ want to hear you sing now.”

 

“I _won’t_.” Akaashi snaps, and Bokuto is quite startled – he’s never seen an enraged Akaashi before. Keiji’s heart sank at the sight, and he bites down on his lip. “I… I don’t like to sing.” He admits, this time a little more softly.

 

He’s not entirely certain what kind of expression he was wearing when he said that, but it causes Kuroo and Oikawa to withhold their pegging. Instead, they exchange one brief glance, as if they were having a conversation, and grinned.

 

“Well, that’s cool. We’re just playing around with you.” Kuroo’s the first one to break the ice, as he swats his hand. “I was just curious if you were anyhow affiliated with any bands, or you know, involved with music.”

 

Akaashi’s sure Kuroo mentioned the topic to alter the course of their chatter, but unfortunately, it stabs Akaashi in a rather sensitive place. He doesn’t let it show, though, because… well, just because. “I was in a band. And I do like music.”

 

“Really?” Kuroo seems genuinely stunned for some reason. “What were you?”

 

The interior of his cheeks just gets tarter. “The lead vocalist.”

 

“So you _can_ sing!” Oikawa exclaims, sitting upright and dramatically using paranoid inflections with his voice.

 

“We weren’t really famous.” Akaashi mumbles, his mood depleting with the memory. “We had to disband within a year.”

 

“Well, if you’re up to it –“ Kuroo’s phone blinks, which shortly distracts him, “Then won’t you fill in for the vocalist position in another band? Their previous vocalist had to quit due to personal complications, and now there’s the most important spot open. A few others quit, and they found replacements for those positions, but they’re having a hard time finding the right vocalist that suits the style of the new band.”

 

“Anything for Tsukki, I see how it is.” Drawling, Oikawa twists over on the couch, his head in Kuroo’s lap. Kuroo blushes just a little but doesn’t really refute the statement.

 

“Tsukishima-kun’s in a band?” Akaashi didn’t even try to conceal his astonishment. Tsukishima in a band, with that sardonic face, with that nasty personality – who would’ve thought?

 

Bokuto chortles, hugging a pillow. “Super weird, right? But yeah, he plays the keyboard. And is very skilled at it – no wonder Tetsu fell for him at first sight when he met him at the concert.”

 

“ _Bo._ ”

 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. But they are really in a pickle right now – and so are we, because we really enjoy their music. They’re called ‘Feathers’, and they used to have totally different members, but all of them found what they really wanted to do in uni and gave up their positions. So they found new kids- oh, Tsukki was always a part of the old band, though. But anyway, now that their members changed, their sounds changed, and they want a new vocalist. Auditions were done, but none of them were great, apparently.”

 

Something in Akaashi stirs. A familiar tickle harasses his vocal chords.

 

_I quit singing._

“I…” He clenches his fists, and grimaces. “Sorry, I don’t think –“

 

“Hey, hey.” Kuroo smiled, “Nobody’s forcing you to do this. If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine – we’re not even sure if your voice will mix with their sounds, anyway.”

 

The doorbell rings and Oikawa runs for it.

 

They have dinner like that, and the overall environment seems to warm up to Akaashi. Kuroo wasn’t ever fully honest, but he knew his boundaries. Oikawa was an emotional drama queen but seemed to have his redeeming qualities. Akaashi found himself laughing – laughing a lot – at their level of maturity, and the incredulity of their conversations.

 

For the first time, he felt okay –

 

Okay, opening himself to more than one person.

 

When they finished a movie, Akaashi finally decided it was his time to depart.

 

“You better come back tomorrow, Akaashi, you’re the purest thing we ever had.” Oikawa has long deleted the honorifics. It was the shortest record, where Akaashi willingly got closer to someone – to others.

 

Akaashi smiled a little. “That might be a little difficult. But I’ll come back – soon enough.”

 

“You _promised!_ If you don’t, I’m chasing you to your grave!”

 

Akaashi said his farewells and exited the dorms. He felt light and was still cracking into a barely existent giggle when he replayed the stupid exchanges.

 

Then he realized, he had a good time.

 

In fact –

 

He had a _great time._

 

It felt too good to be real.

 

 _Maybe nothing is real._ He shivered as a cold breeze hit his bare skin. Summer had long gone, and fall was knocking on the edge. The night sky was as empty as ever, none of the brilliant stars as that photograph shining brightly. _Maybe, if I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be back in that biology classroom, and Bokuto-san will still be in the back row, sleeping._

“’Kaashi!”

 

He jerked, and turned around, only to have something warm and fluffy cover his chilled arms. Bokuto panted, and with a grin more radiant than any star, said, “I thought you’d be cold.” A thick jacket was slung over his shoulders – probably Bokuto’s because it was way too big for him.

 

“It’s…” _It’s not that cold,_ but the words drown in the gutter. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

 

“Thanks for coming today, Akaashi- Kuroo and Oikawa both really like you, and- well, I like you _more,_ but you know – I really had a lot of fun hanging out with you tonight. So thanks for coming.” Bokuto seemed to glow. No, he was glowing. Or maybe that was just Akaashi.

 

“I had a lot of fun too.” He replied, fitting his arms through the spacey sleeves. “Thank you for inviting me today, Bokuto-san.”

 

Bokuto’s grin just gets wider – if that’s even possible – and he walked backward into the dorms, waving at Akaashi. Akaashi waved back, until Bokuto was out of his field of vision, and then gradually dropped his hand.

 

 _God._ He curled south, weakly crouched on the cement. _God no._

_I’m in love with him._

* * *

 

 

He suffered from a love than burnt with solitude.

 

His passion for music drove him to create a band in high school, and although they were amateurs they had fun. They all enjoyed playing music, and they all loved the band.

 

Because Akaashi always had a hard time expressing himself, he thought the music, the band, and his singing was the key. Through those three things, no matter what his message was, he was able to communicate it. Other people were able to reciprocate it. A beat of silence could hold so much meaning, and a low strum of the guitar could convey overflowing emotions.

 

Akaashi viewed it as something surreal – it was like seeing a blanket of endless stars.

 

And then, he fell in love.

 

He wasn’t hoping for acceptance, but he did hope for everything to be the same. When he finally verbally confessed his true feelings, his throat seemed to burn, and Akaashi believed he’d never be able to sing ever again.

 

There was no acceptance.

 

And everything changed.

 

He wasn’t sure if it was the aspect of a guy falling for another guy, or whether it was the fact that Akaashi kept it away from all the others. The band began to fall apart, and the sounds were no longer together but alone. Akaashi was no longer a part of anything, and even his beloved music had left him.

 

There were no stars.

 

There were no wonders.

 

There was just an empty, polluted night sky, black and burning alone.

 

 

* * *

 

“I think I’m in love with Akaashi.”

 

“ _YES FUCKING FINALLY.”_

Oikawa threw his Nintendo across the room, and Bokuto couldn’t decide whether it was because Oikawa finally beat that boss, or because of Bokuto’s long-awaited admittance.

 

“ _’No, Kuroo, we’re just friends’._ ” Kuroo imitated, miming Bokuto’s every move. “Sorry, did I just say that?”

 

“You motherfuckers.” Bokuto grouched, burying his head into the pile of pillows on the couch. “I just realized, like, yesterday.”

 

“Well, Kuroo and I realized the moment you started spurting those ‘Akaashi is so pretty’ shit on us, which is like, half a year ago, and now it’s December _so._ ” Picking up his half-broken Nintendo from the floor, Oikawa shook his head dismally.

 

“You should’ve _told me!_ ”

 

“Sure Bo, like ‘hey, you’re fucking in love with ‘we’re just friends’, just in case you don’t know what those butterflies are’?”

 

Bokuto moaned. “You have a point, but still. What if he doesn’t like me back?”

 

“That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard this entire year after Tobio’s confession to the Shrimp.”

 

“Hey, at least Bo’s after.”

 

“I’m considering changing the ranking depending on how this goes.”

 

With a ray of hope in his eyes, Bokuto asked meekly, “You really think so?”

 

“No shit, Bokuto. You currently have the happiest love life amongst all three of us.” Kuroo pointed out, still a little glum after his ‘huge fight’ with Tsukishima. “I know that doesn’t sound reassuring, but it’s supposed to be.”

 

“I don’t know, bro.” Bokuto’s sentences sounded fragmented through the cloth of the pillow. “Sometimes I can’t really tell what Akaashi’s thinking.”

 

“Nobody knows what the other person is thinking all the time, whether you’ve been with them for a year, 15 years, or 21.” Turning on his Nintendo again, Oikawa talked as if he was speaking from experience – in which, he probably was. “All you really need to is ask if that’s an option. And since you’re in the position where you can, Kou-chan, you really should.” _Yeah, definitely speaking from experience._

 

After around 10 seconds of blood rushing to his brain, Bokuto resolved.

 

“I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was raining.

 

It was freezing cold, and yet it was raining.

 

What a day.

 

Akaashi wanted to punch himself for forgetting to check the weather forecast in the morning. He made it a habit after he caught the ghastliest cold after dashing into the rain in middle school, but he hadn’t had the time that day, as he woke up late.

 

He was having an unlucky day.

 

Hurriedly scanning the area for a place to reside, Akaashi jogged through the drizzle. Alas, a blinking, highlight sign grabbed his attention. He sprinted to the Karasuno bar, and nearly crashed into the shut door as his hand slipped off the handle and pushed it open. He tripped on the stairwell and landed on the marble floor on his knees.

 

Pain jolted through his leg, as Akaashi bit back a strangled cry.

 

Yup. Unlucky day, rocking it.

 

“Akaashi-san?” Tsukishima briskly trudged towards him, although the humor in his voice was clearly audible. “Are you trying to debut as a comedian? Because then you’re in the wrong place.”

 

“Shut it, Tsukishima.” He rumbled, prudently detaching himself from the ground and closing the door behind him. His knees were aching from the shock of the fall, but it was nothing more than a simple scratch. The bar was little more occupied than usual, despite it not being close to dinnertime. Two individuals in particular – one with the foulest scowl Akaashi had ever witnessed, and one with very orange hair – were jabbing at each other restlessly, using a crazy amount of hand motions.

 

Akaashi sat down on one of the empty stools, taking off his parka and gruffly sighing. “Tsukishima, coffee. Black.”

 

The spectacled bartender got to his job, and Akaashi sunk into the table. He just wanted everything to end. He had enough of this crappy day.

 

He desperately wanted to focus and guide his conscience elsewhere – anything to make him feel less distressed. So he concerted his hearing to the music flowing from the speakers and shut his eyes. Today, it wasn’t jazz or acoustic music – it was a ballad, and he was quite familiar with its lyrics and melody as well.

 

 _It’s a good song._ He exhaled, taking the coffee from Tsukishima. The warmth of the glass surface was comforting, combined with the soft music.

 

He subconsciously hummed along with the words, and then felt his mind melting into the tune. And then out of old habit, he parted his lips, and –

 

**_“Even under this moon, I can say you are my sun.”_ **

****

The music escaped from him, and before he knew it, he had sung the chorus aloud.

 

 _Shit._ An alarm buzzed within Akaashi, as he snapped back to reality and quickly peeped around the bar. Tsukishima was staring at him, but it wasn’t his ordinary narrowed, sarcastic glower, and for some reason, the foul face guy and the orange head, along with their companions, were gaping his way, awestruck.

 

_Unlucky day, now dubbed worst day ever._

“WE FOUND IT!”

 

The shortest one amongst the crowd, one with hair that was pulled up north and a yellow streak that ran between his gelled locks, stormed straight towards Akaashi after his impressive declaration. He glued his dark, wooden brown eyes onto Akaashi’s, huffed triumphantly, and clasped his hand in the latter’s. “You’re the one.”

 

“What?” If this was a fictional movie, it was obviously very low-budgeted.

 

“You HAVE to be our vocalist!” The orange head piped in, and Akaashi was just fully lost from this conversation. “You… Your voice is AMAZING, like HOW?! Kageyama, did you hear him? He sounds –“

 

“I have ears, Hinata, I just fucking heard him singing.” The one with the incessant scowl, now apparently named Kageyama, rolled his indigo orbs. Then he turned back to Akaashi, and said, “So, what do you think about being our vocalist?”

 

The most unexpected part of this conversation was that Tsukishima joined in.

 

“You guys are all idiots.” He ran his smooth fingers through his grassy hair. “Akaashi-san, these guys are- well, no. We’re a band, called ‘Feathers’.” Suddenly everything seems to piece together within Akaashi, and the puzzle is complete. “We’ve been looking for a vocalist for four months now, and we weren’t able to excavate any usable ones. But, well. They’re right – your voice will suit the style of our band, with our new sound.”

 

Akaashi felt like someone just slapped him across the face. It had been such a long time – and his chest was aching, soaring – for music.

 

Because no matter how much he tried to reject the fact –

 

He loved music.

 

He loved to sing.

 

“Akaashi, is it? I don’t care who you are – _please_ join our band! It’s Christmas real soon, and we already have all the songs done, now we just need someone to sing and write the lyrics for us, and we’re FUCKING PERFECT!” The shortest one hollered, and the other customers in the bar swerved in their direction.

 

“My name’s Kageyama Tobio, and I am the lead guitarist for the band.” _Tobio? I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere._

 

“I’m Hinata Shoyo, and I’m the bassist!” The orange head and the second shortest one pointed his thumb at himself with pride.

 

“Nishinoya Yuu – drummer.” The most intensely ferocious one put his hands on his waist. “And Tsukishima’s our keyboard guy. And _you_ will be our vocalist.”

 

Tsukishima objected from the sidelines, “Nishinoya-san, don’t be so pushy. We aren’t going to make Akaashi-san do something he doesn’t want, and frankly, Ukai-san wouldn’t be happy to lose our quietest regular customer.”

 

Not taking any of this, however, Nishinoya put his right hand on Akaashi’s arm. “Our music style is wild, manly, but fresh. We can play anything, happy to melancholy, jazzy to poppy. We need a voice that isn’t too feminine, or isn’t overly heavy for the balance – we’re already like a crazy horse right now. We need someone to tone it down. And you’re the one.”

 

Akaashi had always been told that his voice wasn’t strong enough – it was gentle, and possessed no notable characteristics.

 

“It’s true. Your voice contrasts our sound – in a good way. And your singing is easy to listen to – it’s not tense.” Kageyama assented, although his scowl seemed to communicate otherwise.

 

Hinata, the bubbly one, barked a hearty laugh. “You can trust Kageyama, Akaashi-san… was it? He looks really malicious, but he’s a musical prodigy- well, he’s hella good at volleyball too, which is kind of very unfair. But anyway! Kageyama doesn’t praise just anyone. If he’s complimenting you, then that means you’re that awesome!”

 

It was stupid, being comforted by a bunch of strangers from a band he just met – but Akaashi was.

 

“Seriously, if you’re not up to it, you don’t have to, Akaashi-san. Don’t be swayed by these blockheads.” Tsukishima admonished, but then added, “It’d save us if you do join, though.”

 

Tsukishima was pleading, too. This must be something important – for all of them.

 

“I,”

 

_I quit music._

_I quit singing._

“I’ll do it. Your vocalist.”

 

* * *

 

“Bo, you nervous?”

 

“Well, holy shit, yes?”

 

They were standing in the first row, smack in front of the stage. After Akaashi had texted him 20 days ago, telling him that he was now the main vocalist of ‘Feathers’, Bokuto freaked out. Akaashi got him and also Kuroo and Oikawa the best tickets for their first Christmas concert, and first concert ever as the newly formulated band – and Bokuto was just so fucking _uneasy._

 

It was Christmas Eve, and the concert was scheduled to end at 1:00, which would mean it would overlap into Christmas, the 25th. Bokuto was planning on confessing to Akaashi once everything was over – then they would congratulate being a couple, Akaashi’s wonderful concert, and it’d be a happily ever after.

 

**_“We’ll be starting in 10 minutes…”_ **

****

Tsukishima had mentioned that every single word, phrase, and basically the whole lyrics were composed by Akaashi, as they had entrusted him with the duty. Akaashi had just scrambled to finish yesterday night, and they barely rehearsed the whole thing over again, and now it was the D-Day.

 

A few agonizing minutes later, the lights of the indoor stage turned off, and everything was pitch black. Then the spotlight shone onto the middle of the stage, where Akaashi was standing, his shoulders slightly hunched as his fingers quavered, wrapped tightly around the microphone. He could see the silhouettes of the other band members, and Bokuto didn’t even need to look to see that Kuroo was only following the glint of Tsukishima’s glasses.

 

“Our first song is called ‘Twilight’.” Akaashi inhaled –

 

And the music began.

 

This wasn’t Bokuto’s first concert – but as the ground vibrated beneath him, the floor shaking, the stage reverberating, and Akaashi’s middle-low alto echoing and colliding into the walls of the concert hall, Bokuto felt a chill run down his spine.

 

Akaashi’s first words weren’t just words, it wasn’t just singing, it grew louder in some places, lower in others, higher when the instrumentals were lying, and gentler as the melody cascaded like a stream. Keiji’s breathing hitched, and Bokuto was completely entranced – captivated – by the sheer beauty of it all.

 

The crowd was cheering like mad, everyone’s screams were blending in with the music, as Akaashi’s uncontained heart tipped forward, unstoppable, like a gushing waterfall, _like_ –

 

“Our last song,” His exhales strained, Akaashi gulped, “Is called ‘Starry You’.”

 

The arena seemed to de-escalate back into silence, as the piano started playing, pianissimo and light, with the soft tingling of the guitar falling behind. The drums only intervened and mixed every now and then, sounding offbeat but perfectly matching.

 

Then Akaashi began to sing.

 

**_I’ll tell you, I’m in love with the stars_ **

****

**_The way they shine, in the space twilight_ **

****

**_I’ll tell you, I’m in love with the stars_ **

****

**_The way they seem so close, but also out of sight_ **

****

**_I’ll tell you, I’m in love with the stars_ **

****

**_Its golden, its radiant golden_ **

****

**_You’re like a star; you shine under tonight’s black_ **

****

**_You’re like a star, always within my reach but never so_ **

****

**_You’re like a star, golden eyes and the most golden smile_ **

****

Their eyes meet.

 

Akaashi’s forest green, Bokuto’s golden.

 

**_I’m in love with you –_ **

****

**_The Starry You._ **

 

* * *

 

“Akaashi!”

 

_Do I want to talk to him?_

_What if this all breaks?_

_What if he doesn’t feel the same –_

_What if, ever?_

“… Bokuto-san-“

 

But he never gets to continue those thoughts, as Bokuto’s lips crash with his, Akaashi’s back pressed against the lamppost as snow falls upon them. His voice is still hoarse from the singing at the concert, and his mouth felt arid and slightly salty from the sweat. Bokuto’s fingers curl through Akaashi’s dark locks, and Akaashi’s cling desperately to Bokuto’s scalp, pushing them closer together, closing a distance that was already nonexistent, hot, and cold all at the same time.

 

But Bokuto probably deserves better.

 

Akaashi manages to pull away, and sobs. “We can’t do this.”

 

“Why not?” Bokuto questions quietly, his voice low.

 

“I’m dull. I never say the right things, I’m socially awkward, and I’m boring to hang out with. Bokuto-san, you’re bright, and you make everyone happy –“

 

“I want to make you happy, Akaashi.”

 

“ – You’ll get sick of me. I always mess everything up, just like in high school, just like how I did with music, just like how I do with everything –“

 

“Keiji.”

 

Akaashi lifts his head, and Bokuto is smiling at him.

 

“I love you, too.” Koutarou wraps his arms around Akaashi’s neck. “I love the starry you.”

 

_Does anything even matter anymore?_

Wrapping his own around Bokuto’s sturdy waist, Akaashi chuckled.

 

“Did you just quote a song to confess to me, Bokuto-san?”

 

Bokuto’s breath was close to the nape of his neck. “No, I quoted you.”

 

_No, nothing probably matters._

_Nothing, apart from this right now._

There were no stars in Tokyo’s Christmas night sky.

 

But Akaashi was sure – covered in stars or not, Akaashi’s only star had to be Bokuto Koutarou.

 

_I’m in love with you –_

_The Starry You._


End file.
